


What You Can't Have

by lord_squiggletits (megatrons_mouth_laser)



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Fantasizing, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Probably ooc, Sad Porn, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, megatron's severe post-nut regret, no happy ending, things i write instead of doing homework
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:34:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26161978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megatrons_mouth_laser/pseuds/lord_squiggletits
Summary: All that Megatron cared about was that he would want it.
Relationships: Megatron/Optimus Prime
Comments: 11
Kudos: 92





	What You Can't Have

Megatron wanted Optimus in his berth.

It didn't matter how Optimus got there, because it was never going to happen, and there was no use including such a pointless detail in unattainable fantasy. Megatron had no time for distractions.

Optimus would be laid out on his berth--  _ mine, all mine _ \-- and he would be tense. He would be thinking about his duty, worrying what his Autobots would think of him when they found out--

No. He didn't want that.

Optimus Prime would be laid out on his berth and he would be reaching out for Megatron, fingers beckoning as he whispered  _ come here, I want you.  _ His mask would part and reveal the smooth, unblemished planes of his cheeks, the fine shape of his lips. They wouldn't be turned down in a frown or pulled across gritted teeth like they had been the only times Megatron had ever seen him without his mask--

_ Focus. _

His lips would already be parted and soft, waiting to be kissed. Megatron would cage Optimus in with his arms and legs and dip down to take the other's mouth, feeling his energy field pulse in surprise when Megatron's lips were slow and gentle instead of hot and devouring. Optimus probably liked that sort of thing; he was gentle in every circumstance he could be, and some he couldn’t afford to. Megatron hoped Optimus liked it gentle, because it was what  _ he _ wanted, and in the privacy of his thoughts he could pretend that Optimus would come to him for it willingly. He didn’t want to do anything except take his time, so slow that Optimus would squirm and whisper pleadingly in Megatron’s audial,  _ can I have more? _

Eventually, Megatron would give Optimus one last deep kiss, sucking on his bottom lip even as he pulled away and made his way down the cables of his neck, then all the way down his body, provoking a gasp out of Optimus when he settled all the way between his legs and breathed out over his valve panel,  _ open for me, Optimus. _

Optimus would open for him without hesitation, but Megatron would still draw it out, just laying there and tracing seams in Optimus’ thigh until he reached out and laid a hand on top of Megatron’s helm, silently pleading.

Megatron would start with his node, wrapping his lips around it and sucking until Optimus had both hands on the back of his helm and was pulling him in harder. One last kiss to his node, then he would move to the valve opening that would already be dribbling slow beads of lubricant for him to taste. He would work his tongue in slowly, pushing in just deep enough that the callipers would start to squeeze down, only to pull away before they could get a grip. In, out, in, out, rubbing Optimus’ node with his thumb and using the other hand to hold his thigh open, until the Prime arched up and overloaded.

Would he be a modest lover, so quiet that Megatron would have to read his pleasure through his breathing as it came in sharper and louder? Maybe he was as fearless as he was at every other moment of his life, moaning openly and begging him  _ give me more, I want you inside me!  _ Maybe something in between.

He would position himself while Optimus was still coming down from his overload and pressurize his aching spike over his abdomen, then wait for the other to blink his optics and look down at the length of him. He would be able to see exactly how deep Megatron would be inside of him, and he would whimper and let his legs fall open wider in invitation.

Optimus’ lips would part on a soft  _ oh _ , more exhale than sound, as Megatron started pressing into him. Megatron would be gentle, but he wouldn’t be lenient; he would keep pressing in, in and in, letting the trembling valve walls yield to his spike. He would have to keep hold of Optimus’ hips as he squirmed-- it would feel so good it was overwhelming, and he would want to pull back, cling to the armor of his composure the way his fingers were clinging to the edges of the berth.

Megatron would drive him past that. He would start rocking just slightly; a strong push in, then pulling back  _ almost _ as much as he pushed in. For Optimus, it would feel like Megatron was barely entering any deeper even as he lit up his nodes with charge row by row, slowly but surely.

He tried to imagine what kind of sounds he could tease out of the Prime-- gasps, moans, whines, pleads, choked-off whimpers, quiet sighs, maybe even screaming-- but couldn’t quite decide how Optimus would sound while writhing around his spike and pulling Megatron’s hips in closer with his legs. All that Megatron cared about was that he would want it.

The tease was becoming unbearable; Megatron hissed out long and hard like he could release some of his charge with it. It took every scrap of willpower he had to not start bucking his spike into his fist, pumping furiously to take himself over the edge…

...And Optimus would feel his charge reverberating through his frame. He would feel how Megatron’s engines would kick into higher gear and vibrate across his whole body, and he would whisper  _ go on, I want to feel you overload inside me. _

Then Megatron could finally grab Optimus under his knees, spread those thighs wide open, and pound that slick valve as it tightened around his spike in ecstasy, Optimus frantically grabbing at every inch of plating he could reach and screaming  _ Megatron, Megatron--! _

He overloaded so hard that his processor whited out temporarily, all sensory information dropping out except the storm of charge crackling through his entire body.

The cool air circulating through the room buffeted at Megatron’s overheated plating, rousing him from his stupor. He felt like a piece of freshly smelted metal about to be lowered into brine, and he resisted it for as long as he could, delving back into his imagination to the fantasy Optimus spread out beneath him.

He could watch Optimus’ face as he came back into awareness after he overloaded. The light of his optics would slowly bloom back into clear-sky hues, and then a deep cycle of his vents, utterly relaxed and trusting. This was a different kind of surrender that Megatron craved, not of war but of...something else.

Nothing peaceful could last forever. Megatron could fight many things, but he couldn’t fight the advance of time. Megatron would run his fingers across red plating and murmur  _ stop worrying so much, just lay back and let me hold you,  _ but Optimus would wake up, inevitably, his expression shifting back into clarity and he would look down at their entwined bodies and look back up at Megatron and he would… he would…

Nothing. He would do nothing, he would say nothing, because it would never happen, and Megatron had already indulged himself far too deeply in such base, sentimental,  _ foolish _ wishful thoughts.

He would not waste his time any longer, he would not entertain any possibility besides fragging the Prime into the ground screaming, or killing him. Because Optimus was the enemy, and would never be anything else.

Could never be anything else.

Megatron’s spike retracted behind its panel like it had been burned. The transfluid smeared all over his hand and spattered over his thighs felt like slime. With a snarl he pulled a cloth out of subspace and scrubbed his plating until flecks of paint started to spot the mesh. He threw it to the far side of the room.

Not good enough. He would have to pick that up eventually, he couldn’t just leave a  _ reminder _ so openly in his own room.

Megatron reached for his fusion cannon. He let the motor routines take complete control over his frame, connectors ratcheting into place, circuitry humming to life. He aimed and fired.

Nothing was left on the floor except a circle of melted steel, scorch marks spread around it like the corona of a star.

Megatron stood from his berth and left, leaving the room and its troubled dreams behind.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [What Megatron Wants …](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27178042) by [aellisif](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aellisif/pseuds/aellisif)




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